Game of Thrones: Hunter's Moon
by NELLA123
Summary: Set right after season 6. Cersei sits comfy on the Iron Throne. Jamie watches his sister change before his eyes. Petyr has his eyes on Sansa and the Iron Throne but is unlikely to get both. There's a new king in the north. Daenerys is headed to Westeros. [JonXDany] [JaimeXCersei] [SansaXPetyr]
1. Petyr

**Disclaimer: Any and all recognizable characters belong to George R.R Martin. Nor do I claim ownership over any familiar places or settings found within. This story is for entertainment only and not part of an official storyline.**

Petyr

 _The king in the north!_

The gods where spiteful creatures. They gained insurmountable pleasure from replaying those words in Petyr Baelish's mind. They taunted him for having an incurable amount of ambition.

He pulled up his collar as the cold wind kissed his neck. The winds of Winterfell were ever present. They constantly attacked the people within the castle. And they were just as harsh as cold. Petyr already lived through one winter, a rather long one too, but even still he was hard pressed to recall wind this savage. To step outside the heated walls without proper clothing meant the loss of feeling in your limbs within seconds. Outside, the great courtyards were already steadily collecting more and more snow. Already in some areas the hills of snow stood almost as high as houses. Jon Snow had put men to work, clearing and clearing and clearing again but Petyr had yet to see a difference. Winter had finally come and it seemed Winterfell welcomed it back like an old friend.

Oddly enough, It seemed the only part of the castle that wasn't being rampaged by snow was where the heart tree laid. Petyr had visited the godswood the day before. Snow had hugged the ground loosely. And the trees that had surrounded him barely wore any snow at all. As if preferring to keep their leaves as green as possible. The aforementioned heart tree was so pale that the snow looked dirty beneath it. It's red empty eyes somehow watching him as he stood in front of it. He wondered if Catelyn had ever prayed to the tree the way he know Ned Stark had. Deep down he knew she hadn't. Catelyn Stark was a Tully of Riverrun first and the Tully's prayed to the seven. After looking at the tree Petyr went to the pond that was beside it. Looking down he stared at his own reflection. His own grey-green eyes stared back at him. At first Petyr hadn't even noticed the small grey blue wisp of smoke that floated right of his reflection. Only as it continued to grow did he take notice. Quickly Petyr kicked his foot across the water, sending a wave of ripples throughout the pond. But as his reflection came back into focus so did the wisp. It continued to grow until it's size matched that of his own. The wisp quickly began to take shape until the person standing next to him made his heart stop. She looked as he had never seen her. Her cheeks were sunken, eyes clear and empty, her hair matted with mud as if she had been dragged by horse. Petyr stumbled backwards and fell to the ground. He looked and looked and looked for a sign of her but he was alone. Slowly he crept back to the pond. As he feared she was still there but this time she was accompanied but her husband. His head barely on his neck. Petyr threw up into the pond. This was just about the time that the voice had started up. "Out!" Both voices of Catelyn and Eddard Stark yelled at him. Over and over again. Louder and louder. Petyr ran from the pond and heart tree as fast as his feet would take him.

He vowed to never return.

Petyr was seated at the high table in Winterfell's great hall. Dressed in a long silk robe of the Arryn colors. His outer layers draped around his chair. Sansa sat to his left, wearing a grey and blue dress with her large wolf cloak tight around her. Her face washed and powered. And the red hair that was first Catelyn's tied into a bun. Jon Snow sat to the left of her at the center of the table. Wearing only a thin tunic and pants. Though that wasn't always the case. Petyr watched in awe as he stripped off layer after layer as the day drew on. If the weather made him uncomfortable he did not show it. That valyrian steel longsword of his laid across his lap. The orange bearded leader of the Freefolk, whose name he did not know or care to learn, sat left of him. To the left of him, the last spot at the table was seated by Lyanna Mormont. "Lady Mormont." Jon had called to her from where she stood among the rest of the men. "That's twice now you've come to my aid before anyone else. If it pleases you, I would be honored if you would seat at table with me." Jon finished, even going as far as to pull her chair for her. He had only just met the little lord and from what he gathered she wore her face in a mean expression most of the time. But it was unmistakable that both pride and surprise played on her face for just a second. She had held her head high as she made her way toward the table. Ghost, Jon's beast of a direwolf, went to her and rested his head on her lap. Lyanna had not so much as blinked before rubbing under his chin. Petyr's own seat was given to him more out of courteousness. Given to him by Sir Davos Seaworth rather than Jon Snow.

The tables of the hall had been pushed aside to make room for the all the people who currently stood inside of it. Looking out before him, there were easily three hundred men cramped together. Lords big and small from all the north had made the trip to Winterfall to pledge loyalty to Jon Snow. As well as give reports of the current state of the north. Which if what they said was half true, the north was in complete ruins. Apparently both Roose and Ramsay Bolton had been quite busy. Castles had been burned, whole towns had been abandoned. Ramsay had taken to flaying a man publicly everyday. And much more … but Petyr didn't like thinking about those things. Most begged Jon to march south before winter came in earnest. Jon had promised his ear to each and everyone of them. A move that Petyr deeply wished he hadn't made. Much of the morning was already spent here and by the looks of thing much of the evening would be too.

Petyr yawned as a lord, by the surname of Yaunt, gave his report. Foolish lord Yaunt had refused to acknowledge Ramsey. As a result, Ramsey had taken most of his food then burned the land then killed the livestock. King Snow said nothing as the man talked, he only nodded and listened. Rage played on his face. _Good_. _I guess after hearing much of the same for hours it would leave any man speechless._

It was Petyr who spoke up "My lord Yaunt, house Arryn would be more than happy to supply food and live stock to replace what was taken from you. As a matter of fact, if any other lords have a similar grievance please come see me later. House Arryn would be more than happy to help." Lord Yaunt bowed deeply and muttered thanks as he backed away but he wasn't really listening. _Good that should save us some time._

A tall man with a large gash on his neck walked up next. His face was round, donned with a great beard on his chin but he held little hair on his head. Petyr stood a bit straighter in his seat. His eyes transfixed on the man's neck. Likely done by fire. Though healed it was still bubbled against his skin. It was of a purple black color that clashed against his brown skin. "My grace." The man kneeled. "Stand my lord." Jon said immediately. "Northerners need no longer kneel to any man." This brought about a cheer that ran across the whole hall. _Oh_ _Please_.

"It pleases me to no end to hear that, your grace." The mutilated lord said. "But I am no lord, your grace. My name is William Snow. A bastard like yourself. But a northerner all the same. I loved your father and fought in your brother's army. As did a lot of bastards, and would do it again given half a chance." William paused, keeping his eyes on John. "My father and all my siblings died honorably. But due to law I was unable to take over his house despite being his oldest living child. Instead it passed down to his cousin. A woman who has seen nearly ninety two name days, your grace. Now this is not a plea for you to grant the lands to me. If truth be told the old women seems to have the right of things. But if she didn't there would be nothing I could do your grace, I have no rights in the matter. It has been said that back during the days of kings, that the Starks were always the most just and kind. You being of their blood and and the first king in this part of them relam in over a hundred years, I was wondering if you could possibly do something with these set of unjust laws your grace?"

 _Well that's quite unexpected._ Every set of eyes were on the burned man.

"Done." Jon answered after a while.

 _Even more so. Though not unwelcomed._ Little known fact, Petyr held a special place in his heart for the underdogs of the world. Petyr couldn't help the tiny smirk that his lips made. "William Snow, from this day on you shall be lord of House Snow." A chorus of low whispers went around the room but Jon paid them no mind. "Land shall be found for you and a castle provided." Petyr slyly raised a hand. _What difference will one more castle make? Well If I played my cards right..._ "Any bastard born in the north shall be a member of your house. As well, you are honor bound to take in any grown northern bastards who shall seek you out." The newly appointed lord Snow bowed deep. "Sir, Your house sigil and motto?"

"Our sigil shall be a white snowflake on a field of gold, your grace." Lord Snow replied. "Our house motto- The north remembers."

"Very well my lord." Jon said before standing. "My lords and ladies, thank you for coming and thank you for giving me your council. Please know that the decisions I make are with your words in mind."

"We will not march on King's Landing." Petyr furrowed his brow at the words. "Winter has come and the things that come with it are far worse than Cersei. A letter will be sent to king's Landing declaring the north independent as well as our promise of peace."

"Peace with you father's killers!" A men in black mail shouted, a black bear on the breastplate. It was as he hoped. Others around the room began shouting in protest. Those who lived in the north were a proud people, making peace with their enemies wasn't something they did easily. Petyr stayed quiet, better to let them do his work for him.

"Yes, I will make peace with my father's killers!" Jon yelled above the voices. _Shame_. "For the betterment of the realm, I will lay down my sword! My lord father taught me a lot of things. Knowing when to pick your battles was one of them." The yelling slowly died down until the hall was silent. And not another word was said on the subject.

"You've seen the giants, and talked with the Freefolk. So believe me when I tell you our true enemies lie north not south." Jon paused. Just one look at his face and you could tell he was trying to figure out the right way to say something. One look at the men before him and he could tell that they had no idea what their King was going to say. "Every northern house is to send men to the wall. As many as you can spare. They need not join the watch, nor take any vows. The men you've chosen to go will report to either Castle Black or Eastwatch By The Sea. The Freefolk have agreed to man the Shadow Tower." Many looked angry but none voiced their opinions.

The room slowly began to empty. When the room was almost empty, Lyanna stood back from the table and bowed. She left the hall on the back of Ghost. Mounted on top him as if he was some great warhorse. The three of them watched her with smiles on their faces. "Well it seems your monster has made a friend." Petyr said standing "Princess, your grace. I'll be taking my leave now."

"Lord Baelish." Jon said standing up too. He came all the way to Petyr until they were face to face. Jon was almost a foot taller than Petyr was but Petyr didn't cower. Jon held out his hand "Thank you for everything you're doing to help. Your friendship is appreciated." Petyr took his hand and took another step forward. Petyr moved his head to whisper in his ear. "I might be mistaken but it almost sounds like you think my "friendship" is free, your grace." And with that he left the great hall, with a smile on his face.

Winterfell's courtyard was a mix of snow and mud left from the boots of Knights and lords. As he made his way across, Petyr grabbed at his long robe lifting it to keep it clean. Though it was all for not, it was impossible to avoid every mud puddle that littered the ground. Petyr threw his head back "Fuck!" he screamed. People all around stared at him but he didn't notice. Grey clouds filled the sky but you could faintly see the comet that appeared a night ago. A ball of bright white with blue flames dancing behind it moving through the air like an arrow shot from a longbow.

"Lord Baelish!" A feminine voice called from a distance. He was only a few feet from the steps that lead to his chambers. He could surely pretend to not have heard who ever this was and rush inside but choose to turn and face her instead. On top of ghost still sat Lyanna Mormont. On top ghost she just managed to come up to his chest. A couple of hundred envelopes in her hand.

"These are all the houses that require assistance." She said, heading the stack of envelopes to him.

"To think I almost forgot."

Petyr seat at his desk. His bedchambers was a circular room. In the middle sat his large four plaster bed. From there all his personal belonging surrounded it. The fireplace was lit to fight the cold air. A knock on the door made Petyr jump up a bit. "Who?" Petyr called. The person on the other side of the door didn't answer back, rather she just walked in. Stopping just short of him. "Oh the princess."

"Writing a letter are we?" Sansa inquired. _Why must we play games child_. Petyr had been writing a letter when she came. The parchment and quill laid before him. But that much was obvious. _What do you want?_

"To lord Robin, yes." He answered her. "I fear I have made a lot of promises of the house of Arryn."

"Is that so?" Sansa asked. Her eyes wandering around the room.

"It is." He replied. "He is the lord of house Arryn after all."

"For now?" Sansa said, eyebrows raised.

"Certainly." Petyr offered, smiling. More than happy to play whatever game she was playing. "The future is an unpredictable thing. I confess to know none of it."

"I don't believe you." Sansa stated plainly. "Certainly dear Robin's days are fewer than expected. I expect to get a letter any day now telling of Lord Robin's untimely passing."

"Well, accidents -"

"Aren't always accidental." Sansa finished for him. A small silence fell upon the room. Fortunately she broke it. "Jon told me what you said to him."

"I must admit I know it a possibly." Petyr said "But-"

"But you choose to tell him anyway!" Sansa raised her voice over his. "If you think what I've had done to Ramsay Bolton was horrifying." Slowly she began pulling out a short dagger from under her thick wolf cloak. Petyr dropped the smile from his face. "Imagine what I will have done to those who betray-"

Petyr jumped to his feet, grabbing her by the shoulders. "Betray? I would never betray you, Sansa. My lady, I have always been a loyal servant to house Stark. If you could ask you mother and father they would tell you as much." The words of both Catelyn and Eddard came to mind, as he told the lie. _Out!_ They screamed. But the lie was a good one, Sansa hesitated. The smile returned to his face.

"You told me yourself that the Iron throne was your true goal." Sansa said.

"And to have you be my side." Petyr reminded her. "It may surprise you which I care about more." Sansa gripped on the blade loosed ever so slightly.

"If I so much as think your going to turn on us-"

"I fear the olds gods and the new won't be able to keep me alive for very long." Petyr finished for her.

An hour after Sansa left Petyr stood in front of the window, a raven with a letter attached to it's leg. "Oh how I wish you could talk." Petyr told the bird. "...I would give anything to see the look on her face when you land at her feet."

* * *

 _Author's note: Okay right off the bat, i just want to say thank you for stopping by and reading my story. If you've favorited or followed my fanfiction, Hugs to you._

 _I wasn't going to end the chapter here, there was going to be two other parts. Jaime and Arya( the next two chapters btw) but it was shaping up to be another month before it was going to be anywhere near done. And i had already planned on uploading this chapter like two weeks ago._

 _I think this chapter is written way better that the first, so i'm thinking about rewriting chapter one. So between that and the fact that i'm having trouble with the Jamie chapter( the Arya one is coming along fine.) it might be a while before i upload again. Though i hope to sometime next month._

 _Well that's enough with my ramblings. As always if you enjoyed the chapter leave a review._

 _~Nella_


	2. Arya

**Disclaimer: Any and all recognizable characters belong to George R.R Martin. Nor do I claim ownership over any familiar places or settings found within. This story is for entertainment only and not part of an official storyline.**

Arya

 _There are two moons in the sky tonight_ Arya thought. The ghostly white one that had hung in the sky since the first day. And the one with blue flames slightly to the right of it. This new moon shined brighter than its counterpart, the grey clouds a nasty blue hue…at least the clouds anyway. The kingsroad was still very much plagued in darkness. It was hard to see more than a few feet in front of her.

But Arya felt at home. Strangely, darkness had become a familiar thing to her. It was dark within the Keep's dungeon when she first escaped King's Landing. While on the road with Yoren, darkness also found them. Harrenhal was always dark.

She swung her long stick over the uneven cobblestones in front of her. Click click click the stick made as it swung back and forth. Who ever paved this section of the kingsroad had done a piss poor job of it. Stones jutted upward as much as a foot in some places and in others holes laid hidden under snow, waiting to grab her and drag her to the ground. Her muscles ached, horribly. Her feet were hard and rough.

The chilly wind shock her. It was too cold. She pulled up her robes, it was a old dirty green color made in some thick fabric she couldn't quite name but it kept her warm so she was fine with it.

Eventually the road did even out, stretching into a large open expanse with nothing but grass and hills to the side of her for as far as she could see. She paused and leaned on her stick. Out in the open she would be easier to spot. Surely whoever meant to do somebody harm would only see her as a small child wandering alone. An easy way to make quick coin. _Let them come._ Needle sat comfortably at her waist and it promised a swift death to anyone who meant her harm. "Valar Morghulis."

"Valar Morghulis." The world answered back. Arya's heart leapt into her throat. She threw her stick and drew Needle, turning and swing wide. "Forgiveness, a man did not mean to frighten the Lady Arya of house Stark." A man dressed in grey dull cloak stood before her. The face the man wore she did not know but she without doubt know the man. Jaqen H'ghar. The man walked toward her, Arya kept Needle firm in her hands, leveling it at him. He kept walking until the tip of Needle was rested against his chest. Arya pushed Needle. A tiny pool of red began to show underneath the dirty wool. Jaqen H'ghar raised an eyebrow at her. "What are you doing here?"

"A man, goes where the Many-Faced God sends him." Jaqen H'ghar said calmly, almost as if she didn't hold a sword that was currently partially in his chest. "He sent you after me?" she asked tightening her grip on Needle ever so slightly. A warning.

"No, not after Arya of house Stark. The Many-Faced God sends a man north."She thrusted Needle with all her strength but Jaqen H'ghar sidestepped, causing Arya to rip open his robe leaving a long gash. Pieces of flesh and blood fell to the ground. The momentum from the thrust was too great and she fell to the floor; her knees slamming against the hard stones. Pain shot throughout her body like an arrow through the air but still she jumped to her feet. _I can't let him get to Jon. I'll kill him here._ The faceless man stood before her, his hand clutching his bloody chest. His jaw tight. Even still his eyes still smiled back at her. "Does a girl mean to kill a man?" _Yes._ Arya thrusted forward again, ignoring the pain in her legs. Even hurt Jaqen H'ghar was still much too fast for her. "A man is no Waif and a girl is no faceless man."

The pain in her legs was almost unbearable but still she pressed on. Sending slash after thrust after slash but the man only needed to step left or right to avoid them. The effort of standing was too much be this point and she went crashing to the ground. Again she landed on her knees and this time she cried out in pain. Salty tears run down her face. Stop crying, she told herself. _I'm no child. I'm are a Stark of Winterfell. Stark's don't cry. We howl._ And Howl she did, long and loud. Loud enough that nearby bird took flight.

Birds, but not the faceless man before her.

She told herself that she had to get up, willed it even but her legs would have none of it. She tightened her hand around needle. Though is was for not, Jaqen H'ghar slammed his foot down on her figures. The sound her fingers made as they cracked and bent made her stomach turn. Arya cried again but still she struggled to free her hand.

"It is over." Jaqen H'ghar put more weight on to her hand. Arya clenched her teeth to stop herself from crying out yet again.

 _Yes._ She thought, closing her eyes. _It is._

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 _A short chapter this time. I've been busy with a lot so this was honestly all I had in me but I hope you enjoy._

 _Proud to admit that i'm on the three book in the series, and man is it getting intense!_

 _I've also been watching a lot of GOT theory videos on youtube and my mind is racing with ideas. I guess my question to you guys is what GOT theories do you like most and which ones seem to have the most validity to them?_

 _I'm also working on some worldbuilding for my own original series so i'll be devoting some time to that so i don't know when i'll be able to upload the next chapter(Jamie) but i hope it's not too long._

 _~Nella_


	3. Jamie

**Disclaimer: Any and all recognizable characters belong to George R.R Martin. Nor do I claim ownership over any familiar places or settings found within. This story is for entertainment only and not part of an official storyline.**

Jamie

The Streets of Sisters was long and narrow. Barely ten feet across, it made for slow and tedious work for so many men to pass. Their escort was made up of five hundred knighted men, most of them armoured and a horse. As well as another one hundred hired swords followed closely behind, very few of them had mounted but they kept up easily enough. The sounds of metal rubbing against metal, the huffs of horses and snow being kicked up filled the air. "Take as many men as you need and clear the roads. I won't have another incident on our hands." Cersei ordered ser Graham, a large knight with a larger head and very little neck. And so he did, knight large head took a band of one hundred knights and rode ahead of them. Though at windows and rooftops smallfolk stood in dirty wool cloaks, looking down on them. Jamie watched them carefully. _They hate us._ Jamie thought as he crept. Near by a mother held her crying babe in her arm, trying her best to get him to hush beside her; her husband cradled them both arms wrapped tight around them... _And why wouldn't they?_

Off in the distance, The Targaryen's _Dragonpit_ sat on top it's snowy hill. As he looked upon it he saw steel coated with red, it dropping from the tip as he made his way toward the old man pacing back and forth. The walls of the world melted into the wall of the red keep. He remembered hesitating for just one moment. One short moment before the mad man turned his damned face on him. Mad as ever. His long blonde hair falling, his lips parted as he yelled "That traitor, I want his head! You-boy bring it to me!" It was his sword that Jamie gave him. "Even here…. Aerys you bloody fool."

 _Only fools use this unworldly demon shit_ , Jamie remembered thinking, looking down at the jade green liquid in the barrel lup Yuro the pyromancer had laid before them. The three of them stood in a dank cellar the main source of light coming from the two torch by the door behind them. The pyromancer raised his own torch and revealed that another couple dozen barrels lined the walls of the dark room. "There you go my grace." Lup Yuro said to the queen, stroking his long white mustache. "Oh yes we've been finding caches of the stuff all over King's Landing you grace. It may even surprise you were the mad king had them hidden." His sister only smirked before walking to inspect the barrels. They were of a faded black color. Each stamped with the three-headed dragon of house Targaryen though the years had faded it, leaving the mighty dragon a light pink.

"How many total?" Jamie asked. This room was small but this was the fifth cache they've seen so far. Must was like this but some had so many that he dared not try to count. Unless rows and rows of the stuff stacked on top of one another.

Lup Yuro thought for a while before answering. "About a thousand barrels, give or take."

"Make another three-thousand." The Queen ordered.

"Your Grace." Lup Yuro's eyes shot into his forehead. "It will take months to make that wildfire."

"You have weeks pyromancer." Lup Yuro opened his mouth then closed it. The pyromancer bowed and took his leave but not before telling them where to find the last cache of wildfire that had been uncovered. Now alone, Jamie roughly took his sister by the arm and pushed her against the wall. "What is wrong with you?" Jamie growled at her.

Cersei slapped him across the face. "NEVER TOUCH ME LIKE THAT AGAIN! I WILL MOUNT

YOUR HEAD ON A SPIKE BEFORE I ALLOW YOU TO RAISE A HAND TO ME!" Her eyes were wet with tear she was obviously trying to hold back. He took a step back, ashamed. Cersei slapped him again.

The steps that lead up to the Dragonpit where crumbled and slick with ice. He leather boots had a hard time keeping traction with the stones, stones blacker than jet. Cersei climbed the steps easy enough beside him. They climbed in silence. Silence had become common between them, even before that incident in the dark cellar. The ground at the top of the steps were much like the ground below. A few feet away stood a huge curved archway, along the edges a long winding dragon carved and twisted around itself. The rest of the pit was ruined. Maegor's dome had holes blasted in it, the edges of which melted like wax from the dragon fire. They walked through the dragon archway. Dust hung heavy in the air, the floor was patterned in a checkered black and white tile Along the rim stone bleachers had been enacted, though now only shattered pieces remained.

"Well no one ever said that the Targaryens were ever a fashionable lot." Jamie joked.

"That's true." Cersei said a small grin flashed. _Oh how I missed that smile._ It was the first thing Jamie ever fall in love with. Her smile rose the sun in morning and brought the stars every night.

When they were just little children attached at the hip, Cersei only had to smile to get him to do whatever stupid thing she wanted him to do. When they had grown older Cersei only had to give him a look and a tiny ghost of a smile and he would know what waited him later that night. More stupid things.

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Another really short one. School is hell and i'm working on an original story so it's a bit hard to find time to write long chapters. Review if you enjoyed.

I'm doing some worldbuilding but here's, a bit of the story i'm working on.

YAYA

"No, my lady." Wilson Yuller, the baker, said pushing the tiny brown leather bag of gold coins toward her. Wilson was a small wrinkled man, his white beard covered the vast majority of his face. "My dear wife would have my hide if I charged the lord's daughter."

"And my lord father would have your head if you let me take your goods for free." Yaya growled back at him, crossing her arms over her chest. She made sure to hold eye contact with the old man.

"Is that so?" The tiny man said stroking his pointed beard. "Well I would rather lose my head than deal with a mad wife, my lady. Any man who tells you different is a liar." Wilson bent down and pulled out the pastry she asked for from behind the large oak stand that divided them. She wanted to argue more but she hadn't eaten yet and the smell was making her mouth water. _Damn Elvish cakes._ She snatnched the cake rolling her eyes when she took a bite, the jelly leaking down her chin. Wilson laughed and disappeared back to the kitchens behind him. Picking up her purse, Yaya hopped over the display and followed him.

The kitchen was much like the room outside, white walls and white floors but except for rows and rows of cookies and cakes there were rows of people kneading dough instead. Large brown stone stoves stood blazing in the corners of the room. The smell of flour and freshly baked bread was one of Yaya's favorite things in the world. Walking through the room left her in a coat of white powder and a bit of ash. Yaya took fresh cakes as she walked the room. _I tried to pay once and they wouldn't let me._

"I won't charge you for those cakes Yaya, but i'll work you." Mrs. Yuller said as she walked up to her. Mrs. Yuller was a tinsy thing older than her husband. Yaya shrugged and finished her treat before rolling up her sleeves and getting to work. They kneaded dough side by side in silence, well mostly silence. Mrs. Yuller seemed to dot over every little thing she did. "No child, you need to put your back into it." She would say. When she put her her whole body into it "No! Not to hard dear." Yaya could hear the other workers giggle in the corners of the room. Red hot rage began to boil up inside her but she kept her head down and hands moving. They loaded the iron tray with fresh cakes. Twelve, four across. As they slide it in the stove the flames roared to life and doughe began to sweat and her mouth water.


	4. Cersei

Wow it's been along time since I worked on this story. when I first started this story I had just finished the first book of ASOIAF and hadn't even made a dent in ACoK. I figured i should at least have read the whole series before I wrote a story based on it. And so I did and let's just say I wasn't disappointed at all. The way GRRN tells his story leaves me speechless. I'm beyond excited the put my own little spin on it. Thank you to everyone who didn't unfollow or unfavorite and I hope you're as excited as I am to read it.

Okay that's enough about me back the story.

Cersei

The black dragon was massive even from afar and grew larger as it soared toward her. _It is lost._ Burned timber and flesh filled her nose as the green and white dragons bathed king's landing in dragonfire. She took her eyes off the black and studied the courtyard below. Knights dressed in Lannister crimson bravely fought against a horde of Unsullied butchers and Dothraki screamers alike. She watched as Jamie, her sweet Jamie, was pulled from his horse into the dirt and mud and surrounded by spear and arakh. Somehow he managed to make it to his feet banishing his sword in a wide circle at his foes. A grin on his face and a taunt at the ready.

A spear plunged through the mouth of the lion on his breastplate before it could leave his lips.

 _I lost._

She brought her eyes back to the skies as the black dragon had finally made its way to her and hovered in front of the balcony.

"Daenerys Targaryen." Cersei said to the women on its back. _She's so beautiful_. "Or is it Stormborn, mother of dragons, breaker of chains? Sorry I forget."

The women with eyes as purple as the night sky stood up tall on the back of her beast. " I am Daenerys Targaryen, First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm, Lady Paramount of the Crownlands, Princess of Dragonstone, Queen of Meereen, and Khaleesi of the Great Green Sea...dracarys!"

Cersei jolted awake, sending a splash of dirty water to the floor surrounding her tube, slowly she rested her neck back against the polished metal. Tonight she had decided to take her bath in one of the red keeps least unused rooms. The room was round and empty except for the bathtube in the middle and banners that hung from the ceiling. It was on the three headed dragon that her eyes now lingered on. Something very close to fear stirred in her.

Behind her the door opened, she waved a hand over her shoulder dismissively leave, I don't want to be distur-"

"Disturbed yes I was told, but this can't wait." Jamie made his way around her. His eyes lingered on her bare breast for a moment before settling on her face. "Here." He handed her one of the two pieces of rolled up parchment that was in his hand.

"Just arrived?" Her brother nodded. She turned the parchment to get a good look at the grey direwolf. "Burn it."

"I think we should at least see what's written on it!"

"Really, do you think it's that bastard boy swearing his loyalty to King's Landing?" Cersei asked with a raised brow.

"No, but-"

"Then burn it."

"Cersei, we can not fight two enemies at once. We need friends."

"Are you afraid brother?" Jamie took a step away from her, she watched him clutch and unclutch his fist. "Did I wound your pride? Good, I need you to remember how to be a man. Even if it is a crippled one."

They waited in silence for a moment, with her staring at him and him trying to calm his anger. Cersei stood up in the tube, water droplets slowly trailed down her breast, she made her way to her lover pressing her face to his chest. Thump, thump, thump his heart ring in her ear.

"Burn it, Jamie." She put the parchment back into his hand and placed a soft kiss on his lips. " Do not worry my love. We will win I've dreamt it." She placed another kiss on his lips but this time he kissed her back hungrily, holding her tighter against him with his golden hand.

Cersei broke away " The other letter." The hunger was still in her brother's eyes but he placed the scroll in her hand.

"This one will anger too." He said as she turned the paper around and stared down at the mockingbird.

A small laugh escaped her "oh no dear brother you are mistaken this does not anger me. Petyr is a simple man with simple goals. This is…. this is a friend."


End file.
